SERIAL STORY.

Oxford Observer, Volume 1, Issue XI, 26 October 1889, Page 3

SERIAL STORY.

Specially icrittcn for ' The Observer.' THE WAY SHE LOST HIM. "It happened a good while ago; about the time I lost Arthur," said Mrs Silby. I looked at her m surprise. " Lost whom did you say, Kate ? " "Why Arthur, of course, did I never tell you or write to you about the way m which I lost him ? " " Good gracious no, not that I remember. When and how did you lose him? And as he is alive and jolly to-day, at any rate you must have found him again," I said. " Oh, very well then, my dear, I'll tell you all about it to-uighr.," said my friend; "we have a long evening before us, and " " You like spinning a yarn as well as ever, I find Kate ; but, as I like to listen to you, we are both suited," I replied, "so pray tell me the story, and begin at once. 1 ' Mrs Silby and I had been fast friends when we were girls togethe , but had been parted for many years, till I renewed our acquaintance on my return to Canterbury a few weeks ago. " You remember that when Arthur and I were first married we lived near Timaru, Ellen ? " " About twenty years ago," I said, " Oh yes, I remember too how I envied you whenever I received one of your glowing letters — they were filled with such charming accounts of 'my Arthur,' and ' our farm.' Don't you know how delightful it was to be a farmer's wife, hey Kate ? " "Ah," said Kate, smilingly, "the shine was soon taken out of that fancy. Why, even that first harvest we had, nearly half of the wheat was blown out by a nor'-wester, and the next year the most of it was eaten by the caterpillars ; and oats were only a shilling a bushel, and butter fourpence a pound. My word, Ellen, I soon lost sight of the rosy side of a farming life, I can tell you. But one of the worst troubles was the scarcity of water m the hot dry months of summer. Often we had to cart all the water we required from the river, more than seven miles away. It was so tiresome, and the poor horses and cattle never seemed satisfied — they were always thirsty. Our well was deep, and I could hardly believe that it could go dry, yet m the summer time every now and then the water would all disappear excepting just a little at the bottom. Then Arthur would go down the well with a pick, and, after a few bucketsful of loose stones and gravel were taken up, there would be water again for a few days. You understand, Ellen, tlKu

Arthur- and I did all the Avork on the place between us, excepting just at harvest time. So, of course, I had to draw up the stones and stuff, and there was nothing I disliked doing so much as helping Arthur when the well needed cleaning out ; I was always so dreadfully nervous about it, I was so axraid ot letting the bucket drop, or even a. little stone I knew might hurt him very much." " However could you doit, Kate? " "I had to," she said. "We could not afford to keep a man constantly, and m those days a settler had to depend on himself more than nowadays. One morning Arthur rose soon after daylight, and called me, ' Kitty, come, jump up, dear, I want to get away early this morning ; ' and, he added, ' I just hope that the water hasn't gone down m the Avell m the night, so that I shall be obliged to go down m it this morning.' Our baby, Harry, was about a year old then, a.nd he had been ailing and fretful for a day or two. My rest had been broken, and I Avas so sleepy, and rather cross at being roused so early. ' Bother the well,' I said, ' It's the plague of my life. I hate helping you Avith the well, Arthur ; I'm sure I^sliall be letting that bucket drop some day.' ' Don't do it till you are tired of me, Kitty, at any rate," said Arthur, as he left the room. I lay listening, as he Avent about the kitchen, lighting the fire, filling the kettle, and so. ' Kitty look sharp,' he called then, 'I'll go and get m the coavs. I began to dress, then baby cried ; I soothed him for a few minutes, and he was just going to sleep again, when I heard the kettle boiling over, and, though I hurried into the kitchen, the fire was nearly put out. By the time I had coaxed it into a blaze again Arthur came m Avith the milk. ' Well, well,' he said crossly, 'no breakfast ready yet ; I think you might hurry a bit sometimes Kate ; and I have to go down the well, too, before I can get away. 1 ' Might hurry abit, sometimes,' I said sharply, ' it's always hurry, I think, from morning till night. The sun's hardly up yet, and yet you make such a fuss about breakfast.' 'I am sorry to trouble you,' he replied, coldly, ' If you'll help a little Avhile with the well I can go without breakfast.' ' I won't help you till I've had mine, I tell you, Arthur, so now then, and I don't know that I'll help then. I'm sure if I'd knoAvn all the horrid tilings a farmer's wife has to do I never would .' ' Come iioav, Kitty, it's too late to go over all that noAv. If you regret marrying a farmer, I'm sorry I can't help it ; Ido my best.' ' But you needn't be so vexing, Arthur.' I was sorry enough now for my bit of temper, but he Avas sulky, and breakfast passed over m silence." (To be continued.)